Hailstorms: when ice and wine don't mix

A single hailstorm can wipe out a whole vineyard, destroying grapes and
livelihoods in 10 minutes.

'It smelt like hail,” says Gavin Quinney. The Englishman, who moved his family to Bordeaux to make wine 14 years ago, had taken his dog for a pre-dinner stroll through his vineyard a week last Friday when he noticed the storm blowing in.

“The clouds were coming in towards us from the Atlantic side. I’ve seen this before, specifically in May 2009, and then again on September 1 2011 when a hailstorm went right over our heads and landed on nearby villages.

“I’ve not come across the same kind of thing in the UK. You get this build-up of heat, and still the sun shining, then a chill – not a wind, just a chill – and you can see from the way the clouds are moving in different directions…”

Back at the farmhouse where he and his wife had some friends round for supper, they were still debating whether it was warm enough to eat outside. “They all thought, oh, here’s Gavin, the voice of doom,” says Gavin.

Never mind the damage to dinner or a final outdoor aperitif. Hail is potentially catastrophic for a grape grower. Raining down like a biblical pestilence, the destructive pellets of ice tear shoots and branches off the vines, puncture leaves – or rip them off the plant entirely – and smash into bunches of pristine berries, splitting the skins, exposing the flesh to the air. A bad direct hit can destroy an entire year’s harvest – in other words, an entire year’s income – in less than 10 minutes.

Or, as Gavin puts it, “One minute you’re moaning about coulure and millerendange on the merlot – and the next it’s completely irrelevant.”

Hail – grêle in France, where they mark up the weather forecasts with an ominous “G” in areas where a hailstorm is predicted – is, of course, just one of many weather problems that afflict farmers of all kinds. It’s also one of the cruellest, landing on a vineyard like a ball settling into its slot on a roulette wheel, wreaking havoc on one man’s crop and leaving his immediate neighbour’s completely untouched.

This year has been a particularly bad one in France for the extreme weather patterns, as unsettled as a drunkard’s walk, that bring hail.

In mid-July, vineyards in Provence, including Domaine Sainte Lucie and Domaines des Diables, who make the perfectly pale Made in Provence (MiP*) rosé sold by Lea & Sandeman, were hit. MiP* is a wine I love, and I am not the only one. Charles Lea tells me that the main cuvée is the biggest-selling product at L & S, “We have already sold out this year, despite having 40 per cent more than last.”

An initial stock-take suggested that 40-100 per cent of the crop might be lost. “This is a real economic disaster,” said Guillaume Philip, whose vineyard took a bad hail hit four years ago. Three weeks on, and the weather has been kind – dry and warm – allowing some split grapes to heal rather than rot – they will still be down, which isn’t helpful if you are trying to build a business: “But there is a chance we will still make some wine.”

At the end of July, a 10km stretch, including many premier crus vineyards, in Burgundy’s Côte de Beaune was pummelled with hail, as well as violent storms, heavy rain and floods. Burgundy also suffered hail damage last year, so it is no surprise that with 2013 yields set to be low again there is a lot of talk of price rises. Champagne, too, was hit by the storms at the end of July.

As for the storm that ravaged the Entre Deux Mers region in Bordeaux – one that makes cheap, everyday wines rather than big, pricey ones – it struck the Quinneys’ Château Bauduc with a bang at 8.40pm on August 2.

“The force of the wind was extraordinary,” says Gavin. “The hailstones weren’t huge – the biggest about the size of a pound coin – but the wind was blowing them, we watched them strike a metal watering can, the noise was like the soundtrack to Saving Private Ryan – ting, ting, like bullets.”

And then, afterwards, the surveying of the damage. How much did Gavin lose? “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll send you photos. Fifty per cent? Maybe more? Depends how things go. You do think, 'What have I done to deserve this?’ Then I went out and followed the line of destruction and saw some of the wastelands around Château Bonnet – vineyards that looked apocalyptic…”

In Argentina, hail is so common in some areas that growers net the vines to protect them from it. It’s expensive, but not as expensive as losing a whole crop. In Bordeaux, netting is just not done. Is Gavin insured? “No. But look, it’s not like getting car insurance. It’s tens of thousands of pounds a year.”

According to the CIVB – Bordeaux’s bureaucratic body – only 15-20 per cent of growers are insured. It just costs too much. And although most regions experience some hail most years, the risk of a really disastrous storm has traditionally not been thought high enough to warrant the premium.

It’s a tough business. Especially in this cut-throat market – where the attitude of high street retailers is: “We’d better tie growers to prices before the season ends, not afterwards, so we can guarantee our supply at a price. If it hails – that’s their problem.” The wines below might help.

A happy tale – and a good wine. On July 1 last year, Raimond de Villeneuve of Château de Roquefort in Provence watched in anguish as a hailstorm obliterated his crop. “I was up to my knees in hailstones, blue with cold.” To salvage his year, 35 local vignerons donated grapes – and four special Grêle cuvées were born. This one is a perfect dry pink – with a heart.

My pick of Gavin Quinney’s (pre-hail) wines is his sauvignon blanc, as crisp as a bite of green apple. This has long been a house wine at Gordon Ramsay, also the white I chose to pour at a big family party –and I still like it. From unfashionable Entre Deux Mers, which helps the value. Buying direct is the best way to secure a good deal for you and them.

All right, I admit that this one has absolutely nothing to do with hail, it’s just a good red wine that, at the discounted price, is almost impossibly cheap. Both Tesco’s Côtes Catalanes reds (the other is made from carignan) appear regularly in this column for that reason. This one’s soft, smooth, a little bit fiery – redolent of stewed plums and chalk dust.